I love football, I love football, I love football, I love football. Football. I loovvvvve foooooootballlllll.

These were the words that just kept passing through my mind during the last Harvard-Dartmouth game in Hanover. I was sitting in the stands, and it was raining so hard that my raincoat--one of those leak-proof, rubberized specials--had soaked through. My newish jeans were plastered to my legs, which by this time must have been Levi blue from the dye that was forming a nice pool at my feet. Ah yes, my feet. My feet, shriveled to nothingness, were floating inside my socks, which were floating inside my sneakers, which had water streaming out of the eyelets, diluting the Levi blue pool. The man who said the body was 80 percent water was not at Dartmouth that day. I was toppin '90, easy.

And, believe it or not, if it had just been the rain. I could have dealt with the situation. Once around the dryer and I would have been okay. But there was one other slight discomfort on that lovely October day--it was late in the second quarter, and undefeated (4-0) Harvard trailed previously pitiful Dartmouth (1-3) by a 17-0 score.

I love football, I love football, I loovvvvvvve football, I just kept saying it over and over again, trying to justify my impending pneumonia.

All of a sudden I realized that my friend was punching me on the arm and saying that he wanted to leave, to find shelter and warmth and something to eat.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's go." I only shook my head and turned back to the field.

"Are you crazy?" he asked, "Why not?"

I'm not really sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew, the words had come out of my mouth.

"I love football," I said.

From that moment to the present, and on into the future for who knows how long. I have not been allowed to forget that particular utterance.

My friend stared at me for a few seconds and then turned and left, headed for a restaurant just over the border that specialized in chili and warm, dry air. I should have gone, too, because nobody on the Harvard side could have loved football enough to bear through the rest of the game.

Though the rain stopped during halftime. Dartmouth continued to pour it on Harvard, winning by a 30-12 count. In addition to losing the game (and severely hampering its Ivy title hopes), the Crimson also managed to lose a bunch of quarterbacks.

Brian Buckley (No. 1)--who had banged up his knee the week before against Army--was not even dressed for the game.

Mike Buchanan (No. 2), who started, suffered what was thought to be a broken ankle during Harvard's fifth series.

So that Ron Cuccia (No. 3) could remain at split end, Mark Marion (No. 4) entered upon Buchanan's departure. After an interception, he was back on the bench.